I Am Joshua: Heart Matters Series

By A.K. Pollock

Joshua is a disappointment to his father because he is small for his age and is an artist. His alcoholic father lost his football scholarship after an injury his senior year in high school. Joshuas mother suffers from battered womens syndrome. Joshua is removed from the home after being abused by the father.

Joshua hates his father, is angry with his mother, and broken-hearted to leave his best friend, Becky.

Join Joshuas journey as he travels from one foster home to another. Meet Jake, a Tae Kwon Do instructor; Claudia, a librarian and Jakes friend; Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, his new foster parents; Barney, the Simpsons dog; and Kinkade, Barneys son. How will they impact Joshuas life? How will they impact yours?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449797270

A.K. Pollock

Anna resides in Bainbridge, Georgia. She retired after thirty years in education. She has been published in the Georgia magazine. Her affiliations include the Long Ridge Writers Group and the Institute of Children’s Literature. This is her first novel.

Book preview

I AM JOSHUA

Heart Matters Series

A. K. Pollock

logoBlackwTN.ai

Copyright © 2013 A. K. Pollock.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1-[phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9726-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9727-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013910053

WestBow Press rev. date: 8/14/2013

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

QUESTIONS TO PONDER

In memory of my mother, the late Christine D. Pollock and my sister,

Gail P. Wells, who told me to go for it.

39709.jpg

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My personal editor, Dr. Heidi Chambers

My technical assistant, Vonda L. Hubbard

My teacher at Long Ridge Writer’s Group, Tom Hyman

My teacher at the Institute of Children’s Literature, Kristi Collier Thompson

And most importantly,

My Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave me Joshua

39709.jpg

CHAPTER ONE

THE SQUEAKING OF THE BACK porch door opening and slamming made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Once again, I’d hoped he would stop in the den and pass out in his recliner before coming upstairs. That didn’t happen.

My heart raced as I opened the door just enough to peek out. Mom walked out of her bedroom as Dad topped the stairs.

Bart, how are you tonight, Sweetheart? she asked him.

How do you think I am? I worked all day at that blasted factory and I’m tired. Why isn’t my dinner on the table? he asked as he grabbed her by the hair.

It’s in the oven! she screamed. I didn’t want it to get cold. You’re hurting me!

Dad yelled back at her that it didn’t look like much of a dinner. I wanted to tell him if he didn’t spend so much on his liquor, we’d have more money for food and other things. I didn’t dare with him so drunk.

I stepped into the hallway. She has your dinner ready; let her go!

Yes, Bart, let me go!

He released her blonde hair and turned around and faced me. Oh, are you trying to act like a man now, Joshie? He turned back to my mom and said, Lillian, get your butt downstairs and put my food on the table. He slapped her rear end as she walked by and laughed.

He turned toward me but didn’t say anything. I was glad. I went to bed with my heart still racing and hoped that nothing else would happen. I listened to the night sounds. The old house creaked and groaned. I didn’t hear my mom moving around, so I hoped he’d left her alone. After a couple of hours, my eyes closed. It seemed like it was only minutes before my alarm clock woke me.

As I awakened, the reality of being a junior in high school hit me. Dad always left for work before I got up every morning. That was a good thing! I put on my cleanest pair of jeans and favorite tee shirt with my only pair of tennis shoes.

As I walked into the kitchen, the smell of pancakes made my stomach growl. Mom asked, Are you excited about being a junior this year? I can’t believe one more year after this one and you’ll be graduating from high school. I made you some pancakes this morning. You need to eat a good breakfast.

Thanks, Mom, I replied. They sure look and smell good.

She turned and smiled. That’s when I saw the bruise on her left cheek.

Mom, why’d you let him do that to you?

Honey, he didn’t mean to. Sometimes he just drinks too much and doesn’t realize what he’s doing.

My stomach no longer growled. Thanks for making the pancakes, but I think I’ll pass.

Joshua, please don’t go like this. You need your breakfast.

And you need to leave him.

Joshua, I can’t. How in the world would we survive?

Mom, no matter what, we’d be better off than we are now.

Honey, that just isn’t so.

Mom, you know it’s the truth.

This time I left slamming the door. As I walked down the dirt lane, I realized I’d better stop kicking all the little rocks. My clothes were getting dusty, and I knew the kids would probably make fun of me. I glanced back at our old farmhouse. My dad’s parents had lived in it when they were alive. They were farmers, but not my dad. No siree, not him. He’s never talked much about them. I never knew them, but they probably wouldn’t have liked me either.

I wondered if Dad’s father ever called him Bartie. Of course not! My dad—the big football star in high school.

I passed by Mr. Turner’s house. He loved to garden. The Haywoods lived next door to him. Every house in the neighborhood had a screened-in porch. I guess living in the South, you need one.

As I walked, I listened to the birds singing. As much as I loved them and loved to paint them, even they couldn’t make me feel better this morning. But something else did.

As I turned off the lane and onto the sidewalk, I spotted a red-haired girl I’d never seen before. The sun bounced off her hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shade of red that beautiful. My hands itched to paint her. Of course, she was taller than I, but she didn’t look any older. I wondered if she’d just moved here.

Her clothes looked fancy. I’d arrived where our streets met. Too afraid to say anything, I glanced just long enough to notice that she had freckles across her face and on the bridge of her nose. I had knots in my stomach and my heart was racing. I passed her by.

I thought I’d heard her say hello. I turned around. Hi, I answered her.

She asked me if I went to high school here.

I told her that I did. She asked if I would walk with her. Oh, man. Umm… Umm…okay.

Why did you go around me?

I just didn’t think you’d want to walk with me.

Why not?

You don’t know me.

You don’t know me either, she said. But we can fix that. I’m Becky Richardson.

I’m Joshua O’Bryan. At least that’s what I thought I said. She made me so nervous my mouth didn’t have any saliva left in it.

Good, then let’s go.

That made me feel better.

I’m a junior as of today, Becky said.

So am I and next year we will be seniors of the class of 1991. I don’t know why I said that. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt stupid. I asked her if she had just moved here.

Yes, and I don’t want to go to school all by myself. It’s hard being the new kid.

I’d never been new, but it had to be tough. I knew what it felt like to be picked on, even though I couldn’t imagine anyone ever picking on her.

When we arrived at school, we looked for our names on the homeroom rosters posted on the front doors. Look, Joshua, Becky said, we’re in the same homeroom.

Good. I didn’t get to ask her where she was from. The bell rang so we went inside to find our classroom. There things changed. Becky and I looked for empty desks and found two, one in front of the other. I liked that because I could sit behind her and stare at her pretty red hair. I still wondered how I’d paint that.

I had almost sat down when I heard a gruff voice say, Not in that seat you don’t. I turned to see who’d said that. He looked about two feet taller and three times my size. His dirty brown hair seemed to go in every direction. Just what I needed. Like Becky, he must’ve been new. I’d never seen him before. I knew who most of the kids were, even though I wasn’t friends with any of them.

What’s your name? I asked him.

Rusty Potter. What’s it to you?

Well, Rusty Potter, I don’t see your name on this desk anywhere.

You little smart-mouthed…. At this point the teacher, Mrs. Gaines, cut him off. Rusty, she said, there’s a desk over there by the window.

Rusty turned, looked at me and said, Just wait until later. I’ll show you.

Homeroom didn’t last long. On the way out the door, Rusty said, After school, I’ll see you at the big oak by the gym. You’d better be there.

After what seemed like an eternity, the three-fifteen bell rang, and I headed out to the oak tree. Rusty was waiting for me just like he said he’d be. I didn’t see anyone else, thank goodness.

Well, you little twerp, I didn’t think you’d have the guts to show. You must like to get beat up, Rusty said.

Come on, tough guy, I replied. I must’ve been out of my mind to meet him. He towered above me. He took one swing and I landed on the ground with a thud.

Get up, twerp, unless you’ve learned your lesson.

Scrambling to my feet I asked, What lesson would that be, Rusty? I didn’t care if I egged him on. I was tired of tough guys thinking they could do anything they want. Just like my dad. I dusted the dirt off my jeans.

You don’t listen well, do you? I told you I’d show you.

Show me what?

Don’t get smart with me, he replied.

You’re the one who started it. I have to admit, Rusty, that’s the first time anyone has ever called me smart.

I knew I’d egged him again on, but I didn’t care. He shoved me onto the ground again. How many times do you plan on doing this? I asked him.

Listen, you little idiot; when are you going to learn?

I looked him squarely in the face and said, So, you finally realized I’m not so smart. I have homework to do. With that, I walked off and didn’t look back. He had the upper hand for now, but I’d made up my mind that it wouldn’t stay that way. He didn’t come after me.

The next thing I knew, Becky had walked up beside me. My palms began to sweat.

Where’d you come from?

I’ve been waiting for you. Joshua, I didn’t know what Rusty might do, being such a bully.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. I’m not running away from him.

You know, he’ll keep on doing this to you.

Yeah, I do.

It sure was nice to start my day with Becky and now to end it with her. We arrived at the street where she had to turn to go to her house.

Maybe you could meet me here again in the morning?

Sure.

I’m glad I’d met Becky. She turned to walk down her street. When she did, her hand accidentally brushed mine. This girl was stirring up feelings in me that I didn’t know I had. Heat was rising on my neck. I wondered why she’d give me the time of day. Junior year would be interesting. Time to go home and paint my birds.

39709.jpg

CHAPTER TWO

I ARRIVED HOME AND MOM greeted me at the door. Did school go okay today, honey?

Just fine, Mom.

Did you make any new friends? she asked.

Actually, I met a girl named Becky.

That’s great. Maybe you could invite her over here some time.

I thought to myself, "Not in this lifetime. As I headed towards my room, I heard the phone ring. Mom answered and said, I’m sorry you have to pull a double shift, but I promise your food will be hot when you get home."

The thought went through my mind—he won’t be home anytime soon. Mom, I’m going outside to paint.

I’ll call you when I’m done with supper.

I went over to Mr. Johnson’s. I kept my paint there. Our backyards faced each other. Hey, Mr. Johnson, I just wanted to get my paints.

Going to do some more painting today? Well, you know where they are.

I went in. It was a large screened in porch, with rocking chairs and a table between them. A cloth covered the table. I hid my paints behind it. Couldn’t have my dad seeing them. Lots of mornings, I can see Mr. Johnson sitting on his porch drinking his coffee. I’m grateful he lets me keep my paints there.

What a wonderful afternoon, I thought. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, my favorite color. All of a sudden a red bird flew and landed on the feeder. I do love those red birds. Their red feathers reminded me of Becky. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The bird looked beautiful, too. I wanted to capture his beauty as he bobbed his head up and down eating his dinner. I must’ve been out there quite a while.

Mom came out into the backyard. Being engrossed in my painting, I didn’t hear her walk up.

Joshua, that’s a beautiful painting. I wish your dad would accept the fact that you’re an artist and not a football player.

Oh, hey, Mom. I don’t think that’ll ever happen. Just because he got injured in high school his senior year and missed out on his scholarship to the University of Georgia doesn’t mean I should be the one to take his place. What are you doing with that load of clothes?

I’m taking them over to Mr. Johnson. I’ve been helping with his laundry sometimes for some extra money. You know, just like you help him with his yard. That bad leg of his has been giving him a hard time lately. Just don’t tell your dad.

Don’t worry. I hated Mr. Johnson had gotten injured during WWII, but I was glad he didn’t get killed. He never complained, but I knew when he’d hurt because that limp of his seemed worse.

When I get back, how about some fried chicken and mashed potatoes?

That sounds wonderful, Mom.

We enjoyed a quiet peaceful evening for a change. I fell asleep long before my dad arrived home. He must’ve been tired because he didn’t bully my mother. I drifted off into a wonderful night’s sleep dreaming of a red-headed girl.

I woke up in a good mood the next morning. Mom and I’d had the best evening we’d had in a long time. Mom didn’t even have to wake me. I got dressed in a flash and didn’t bother with breakfast. The excitement overwhelmed me. I heard Mom yell at me as I flew through the kitchen and out the back door, but I didn’t stop to answer.

Due to the earliness of the hour, I took the long route down by the creek. I watched as a beaver began building a dam. I grabbed my sketch pad out of my book bag and began drawing him. As usual, time got away from me. Becky had walked up behind me, but